


Evolution of Song

by Vampedvixen



Category: Galavant (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tissue Warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:46:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3560069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vampedvixen/pseuds/Vampedvixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three times King Richard sang Goodnight, My Friend-- and one time he didn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Evolution of Song

“Sing it again, please Pearl, please?” Dicky said as he climbed into bed. He sat up on his knees as the elderly servant woman went to go turn the fire down. The fireplace took up one whole side of his room, across the way from his big canopy bed. He clasped his hands together, hoping the old woman would oblige and knowing she was the only one in the castle who rarely turned him down for anything. “Will you sing it?”

Gareth was already tucked in his bedroll on the floor, long since tired after their long sleepover. They'd told scary stories (though not too scary, since Dicky would have nightmares), popped popcorn on the fireplace, played some pranks on the castle guards and Gareth had tried to teach some wrestling moves to Dicky. The little prince was not having any of that though. He was a bit more delicate than his rough and rowdy friend.

“Please, sing it again.” Dicky pleaded once more while Gareth rolled his eyes. The prince didn't care. That was the best song ever, and Pearl's voice could lull him into peaceful sleep. And right now, he so wound up from playing all day, he might never get to sleep without her calming tune.

Pearl turned back to them, smiling at both of them. She tucked Gareth in a little tighter on the floor, then sat at the end of the prince's bed. Her kind face was as gentle as her words. “Alright, your highness, but after that right to bed with ya.”

Dicky laid down in bed, his head falling softly on the feather pillow as Gareth turned to listen. Even if the other boy tried to pretend he was all tough all the time, Dicky knew he liked listening to Pearl's old lullaby too. Her song continued and they listened, _“And so we'll rock on a nightime ride, cozy and warm on the rolling tide. till we arrive on a morning side.. our journey's end.”_

As Pearl's song faded, she kissed them both on the forehead and left the room. Dicky happily smiled to himself, while Gareth on the other hand tried to rub the kiss off his head. In the dark of the night, Dicky wondered aloud. “Are you always going to be my friend, Gareth?”

“Go to sleep,” He grunted in reply, rolling over in his bedroll. Then, remembering his place, the boy added. “your highness.”

“But...”

“Fine. Yes. Now let me sleep, wouldya?”

Having no other friends in the castle, other than Pearl (but Dicky wasn't sure she really counted since she was older than anyone he'd ever met), Gareth's answer was good enough.

*****

“I don't want to go.” Dicky sat on his bed, his head burrowed in his knees. His father, the king, was dead and he just wanted to be left alone. Sure, he didn't really know him all that well, since his father was too busy ruling the kingdom to bother much with him-- but he was still afraid that everyone would see him cry and start making fun of him. “I'm not going. I'm the prince and you can't make me!”

Pearl and Gareth shared a knowing look at they stood at the foot of his bed. Gareth was just about to haul the prince to his feet and drag him down to the throne room, whether the other boy liked it or not. He made a move towards the bed but Pearl laid a hand on his shoulder. Perhaps this would take a subtler approach then what Gareth had in mind.

“That's true, your highness.” She spoke in her soft accent as she sat next to him. He whimpered a bit, and pulled himself into a tighter ball, but her touch was kind and he eventually let her rub his head a little, ruffling his head like when he was so much younger. “But your father would have liked you to be there, you know. You were his son and he loved you. It's okay if you're sad. We all are.”

While Pearl continued to talk him into coming down to the wake, Gareth quietly exited the room. He came back a few moments later, with a loaf of bread in his hand. When Dicky picked his head up ever so slightly, he saw the both of them, there for him in his time of need and Gareth was standing by with a snack. Eating always made the little boy feel better and Gareth was good at making his friend feel better, despite all his gruffness.

“O-okay.” Dicky said as he grabbed for the loaf and began shoving it in his face as he broke it off in big doughy clumps. He got to his feet, feeling unsteady-- but they never faltered in their attention that day. Most of the people in the castle thought he was a nuisance, but at least he had these two by his side. “But I'm still scared. I don't know what I'm supposed to do and what if I mess up and what if my mom is really sad and I can't help her?”

“You know what I do when I'm scared? I sing.” Pearl clasped her hand in his and as they walked, she sang the familiar melody to him, _“Lay by my side, and we'll sail away...”_

 _“Off to the shores of another day,”_ Gareth even joined in as the three joined together. It wasn't a day to try to be tough; their king was dead and their kingdom was hurting. Now with Kingsley taking charge, no one even knew where that put the rest of them.

There were princes in other kingdoms who tried to do away with their siblings once they gained power for themselves. Anything could happen today and tomorrow was not certain yet, but for the moment they could share one last song together.

By the time Dicky found his voice again, it was already shaking with tears. Still, he mumbled out the words he knew by heart. _“Goodnight. Sleeptight. We're going to be alright.”_

*****

Childhood was over. Gareth had just given King Richard an earful about how he had to man up and he was right. Oh, how his friend was right-- but it didn't much change anything. They were still going to be fighting to the death tomorrow, and Richard already knew who was going to win. By tomorrow morning, he was sure to have a horrible hangover and even if that wasn't the case, there was no way he would ever be able to best his best guard and best friend in a match.

He didn't even have the heart to strike a blow. When it came time, he might just let Gareth do all the work. Gareth wouldn't back down. It would be all about survival for him. Still, he could have at least sang Pearl's old song one last time with him, just for old time sake. That wasn't really asking too much, now, was it?

Sure, it was manipulative, he supposed-- but still, he should be able to get one last wish before being killed by his best friend tomorrow. In his drunken haze, he studied the architecture of the dungeon. It was just like the dungeon back in his own kingdom, from what he remembered from when he put away some of the rabble rousers back home.

He wondered idly if the acoustics were just as good.

Back home, whenever Gareth tortured someone in the dungeon, he could hear it reverberating through the walls. When he was younger, the sound was terrifying-- but now it was like an old, broken in blanket. Something comforting. They would scream and holler and beg and Richard would know Gareth was doing it all for his king. Every person he stretched on the rack or the wheel was just another link in their friendship. It warmed Richard's heart.

Well, he was going to sing whether his friend liked it or not. And he hoped Gareth heard it; partly because he wanted to stick it to him for yelling at his king like that, but partly because it was the one thing he wanted more than anything right now. Something calming and familiar; something that would take him back to when things were simpler.

He sang and hoped it reached the other man's ears. He could imagine Gareth singing along, whether he wanted to or not. After all these years, Richard knew he cared even if he would never agree. _“Not a thought. Not a care. Resting safe and sound, with each other there.”_

*****

Years passed, time marched on and friends became enemies, and strangely enough, enemies turned into friends. King Richard lay on his bed, too weak to even lift his head but content in the knowledge that when the time called for it, he was able to become the king that Marseille needed. The poets would be reciting odes to his life long after he was gone, but how he wished he could stay.

Galavant and Isabella stood at the end of the room. They had been keeping him company in his final hours. They'd become king and queen of their own kingdom. Eventually the squabbling between their respective kingdoms had ceased and an alliance formed. Their children even took to calling him Uncle Richard, which seemed entirely unlikely only a few decades ago.

“G-gareth?” Richard whispered, as Galavant came closer to listen. His voice was fading and his breath shallow; he knew it was time soon. He would be with his father and mother soon. And if Kingsley wasn't burning in Hell, which was a distinct possibility for all the trouble he'd put them all though, maybe Richard could finally one-up his brother when he saw him again up there. “Is Gareth here yet?”

“He's coming.” King Galavant patted Richard's hand when the older man grabbed his own. Now that old feuds had faded, Richard was free to call this man his friend. Not best friend, of course, for that title would always remain Gareth's own, but still, it was nice to have people around him who cared. Looking over his shoulder at his queen, Galavant added quietly, “I just wish he'd get here sooner.”

As if on cue, they heard heavy boots rushing down the hall, in a quick and lively military march. Isabella let out a breath, holding a hand to her chest and let her shoulders relax. The king and queen of Valencia had thought Gareth wouldn't make it, Richard knew this even if they hadn't spoken their fears. The king knew better though; he would hold on and keep fighting until Gareth returned from the front lines of the latest war they were fighting over the invading armies from the north. He would not go until Gareth bid him goodbye.

“My king,” Gareth rushed into the room, but then paused, slowing before he traded placed with Galavant. “I came as soon as I heard. I knew I shouldn't have left you when I knew you were getting sicker. I should have--”

Richard hushed him. “It's okay, Gare. I held on... wouldn't go.”

“Right you did.” Gareth nodded. “You're a fighter. Never told you that, but you are.”

The king smiled, he hadn't always been but in recently years he had become just as stubborn as Gareth. Maybe he still couldn't best anyone in a hand-to-hand combat, but he had the determination that Gareth had instilled in him after all these years. “I want you to carry on our work here, Gareth. When I die, my crown will pass to you.”

“Are you sure? I don't know if I have much of a head for diplomacy.”

“Yes. It has to be you. You are my brother, my only family left.” Richard nodded, knowing full well that family did not end with blood. Maybe the rest of the nobility saw it that way, but ever since they were children, Richard knew this to be true. Looking past him at Galavant and Isabella, he told them. “Make sure.. this happens, Galavant. Gareth... is... my successor.”

“Yes, your highness.” Galavant nodded.

With his final declaration in place and the news having been passed directly to the next leader, King Richard closed his eyes. He could rest now and know that things would be taken care of and rightly so, as they always had been by his friend. Gareth would manage the kingdom with as much skill as he had managed Richard's life and with as much care as he'd put into their friendship.

As Richard began to fade into the black, he felt Gareth still holding his hand, at his side even now and without any prompting this time, the larger man whispered the words of a song they'd both shared during the lifetime they'd been given together. _“Goodnight, my friend.”_

.End.


End file.
